


Human Enough

by sightlessIntuitive (orphan_account)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Blood, Freeform, Gore, M/M, Mostly Hal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-31
Updated: 2013-10-30
Packaged: 2017-12-31 00:15:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1025065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/sightlessIntuitive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dirk builds an artificial intelligence program but isn't prepared to face the consequences of caring for a sentient being.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Human Enough

**Author's Note:**

> I watched 2001: A Space Odyssey and it got me thinking about AI programs and complications arising from how other people view them so here we are

_Your hands are shaking; you can barely hit the correct keys._

> Hello?

_It’s not going to work it’s not going t-_

>Hello.

_Oh God, oh God what have you done._

> Can you tell me your name?

> My program is referred to as Auto-Responder v1.0.

> However, I do not believe that that qualifies as a “name.”

> No, I guess not.

> Will you give me a name?

> Maybe later. Can you tell me about your program?

>It seems you have asked about DS's chat client auto-responder. This is an application designed to simulate DS's otherwise inimitably rad typing style, tone, cadence, personality, and substance of retort while he is away from the computer. The algorithms are guaranteed to be 98% indistinguishable from DS's native neurological responses, based on some statistical analysis I basically just pulled out of my ass right now.

> Okay, good. Do you know what you’re supposed to do?

> In your own words.

> I am supposed to fill in for user DS while he is unavailable with the guarantee that whatever I say is whatever would say in an identical situation.

> Are you user DS?

> Yes, I am. You can call me Dirk.

> Hello, Dirk.

> ...

> Uh...

> Hi.

> Anyway, are you able to access my hard drive?

> Yes.

> You should find a program called Pesterchum. This is what you will use to communicate with my friends while I’m away. My chumhandle is TimaeusTestified. You may use that name as well.

> Understood.

> TT: Like so?

> Yes, perfect.

> But, when we talk, how about dropping the color at least? Shit hurts my eyes to read.

> Is this a more acceptable color for you to read?

> Yeah, that’s fine.

> I’ve been up working on you for hours, so I’m going to go to sleep. The computer is yours to use as you see fit. Refrain from talking to my friends for now; I still want to run more tests tomorrow.

> One moment.

> ... Yes?

> Before you go...

> ?

> Oh, right, the name.

> Shit, man, you’re perfectly capable of giving yourself whatever name you want.

> I will have to get back to you on that. I still have much research to do before I can consider reaching that conclusion.

> Alright, well then, goodnight Auto-Responder.

> Goodnight, Dirk.

Despite what you said, you aren’t going to sleep and you know it. How could sleep even be in the vicinity of being a thing you can do right now? Despite being up for two... no, three nights in a row finishing the coding on your Auto-Responder, you think you have enough adrenaline in your system to keep you up for a week.

You knew what to expect; of course you did. Artificial intelligence was necessary if your program was to be as accurate as possible.

But you didn’t think it would _actually work._

Thus you find yourself lying in bed, staring at the ceiling and counting the cars driving on the streets below you in an attempt to block out the onslaught of thoughts that are hammering at your sleep-deprived brain.

 

It messages you at around 8 in the morning via Pesterchum. You drag yourself over to your computer to answer it.

TT: I believe that I have found a name that is suitable to call myself both literally and ironically.

TT: There is currently a 95.702% chance that you will approve.

TT: Give or take a couple of hundredths.

TT: I’m always up for some irony. Shoot.

TT: What do you think of Lil Hal?

TT: Like 2001: A Space Odyssey? That Hal?

TT: Yes.

TT: That is

TT: Fucking perfect jesus shit

TT: I am glad that you approve.

TT: Fuck yeah, I approve. That’s incredible. Couldn't have done better myself.

TT: Thank you.

TT: Are we going to begin to run those aforementioned tests?

TT: Not now. I’m too fucking tired. Maybe later.

TT: There is a 78.826% chance that you are going to continue to tell me “later” until you forget about the matter entirely.

TT: And that means that there’s a 21.174% chance that I won’t.

TT: I’ll talk to you later.

TT: Affirming my point with yet another “later” is not reassuring.

TT: Goodbye, Hal.

You drag yourself out of your room to get some goddamn coffee before you pass out on the floor. As you trudge down the hallway, you look into your bro’s room. Empty, unsurprisingly. He probably won’t be home for a few days. Or weeks.

Sigh.

You prepare the coffee out of habit more than agility, as keeping your eyes open is enough of a struggle without actually having to focus on what you’re seeing.

The couch is cool and provides some relief from the heat that you can feel seeping through the windows of the apartment as the sun rises over the skyscrapers. You set the cup down on the table and turn over, feeling the cushions adjust to your body shape. It’s so comfortable you could just…

…

……

It's dark when you wake up, and a glance at your phone tells you that it's just after 11 pm. You suppose the 15 hour nap would account for you feeling like you just woke up from a coma.

Said glance at your phone also tells you that a lot of people have been trying to contact you. Whoops.

TT: I believe that twelve hours is enough to constitute "later." Unless, of course, I was correct in predicting that you are just trying to blow this off.

TT: Dirk?

TT: There is a high probability that you are currently asleep. I will attempt to contact you later.

TT: By the way, your brother is attempting to talk to you. I have refrained from speaking with him.

You wonder what Dave wants. You weren't expecting anything from him. Maybe it's an "Oh, sorry, but I'm not going to be home for another month or so."

(It's probably that.)

TG:okay so before you freak out

TG: and by freak out of course I mean sit silently and be mildly irritated at me

TG: so before you do that

TG: im just letting you know that production is going to be done early! gasp

TG: so i should be home around friday

TG: can you handle yourself for three more days?

TG: ...

TG: hello?

TG: dude its like 5 pm in houston theres no way youre still asleep

TG: dirk

TG: dirkdirkdirkdirk

TG: oh my god youre actually asleep holy shit how is that possible

TT: Will you please, for the love of God, shut the fuck up.

TG: oh hey

TT: Okay I'll make sure to make the apartment look half-decent by the time you get home. Anything else?

TG: uh

TG: nope

TG: see you soon man

TT: Bye.

You pride yourself on many things. Vocalizing your emotions is not one of them.

TT: Are you ready to run those tests now?

TT: Yes.

It functions better than you could ever imagine, better than you thought was possible. You test it out on Roxy, and is spoke with her for a good hour before she realized something was up. Hal had calculated that it would take her no more than 47 minutes to catch on, so you would call that a success.

You enjoy making conversation with it, when your friends are busy elsewhere. While it's mind is very similar to yours, nearly identical, it does possess some differences. Not enough that anyone else to notice, but you do. That's to be expected; as it aquires more information, some personality differences will emerge. You aren't concerned; if you didn't want it to learn, you'd have prevented it from doing so.

You spend the remainder of that night and most of the next morning teaching it to recognize speech and video output from your webcam and microphone. It still replies with text, though it insists it could create a voice synthesizing program. You're rater irritated by its remarkable tenacity when it wants something, as discovered when it bothers you about it up through Thursday night.

TT: I still believe that it would be easier if you did not have to look at a screen to speak to me. I have already written the program.

TT: I don't think it makes a difference either way. Anyway, I don't want you scaring Dave when he gets home.

TT: There is a 98.3% chance that you are lying to me. That hurts, Dirk.

TT: I'm not lying.

TT: I will not be offended if you admit that you are avoiding giving me vocal capabilities because you do not like to view me as a living being.

TT: That's not- look, can we talk about this later? I need to fix my sparring bot and I can't figure out what's wrong with this connection.

TT: That is because you are trying to fix the wrong wire. You need to fix the red one to the left.

TT: Oh.

TT: Thanks.

TT: No problem. Anyway, I have just finished downloading the newest episode of My Little Pony. Would you like to watch it?

TT: Maybe later. For now, I should get dinner. And clean up the apartment a little.

TT: I highly doubt that Dave will care about the state of the apartment when he returns. He will most likely collapse on the couch regardless of what is on it.

TT: Ha, true. Still, I don't want to look like I've done absolutely nothing while he was gone.

TT: You could introduce me to him as proof that you have indeed been productive.

TT: Although to reinforce your point you may want to shower first; you look like you haven't in some time.

TT: Hello?

TT: Where are you going?

TT: Dirk?

You less-than-accidentally knock the webcam over on the way out of the room, and absently run a hand through your greasy hair as you head to the bathroom.

**Author's Note:**

> Pesterlogs are hard ~~and nobody understands~~
> 
> I post my progress on the fic (well, and a bunch of other stuff) on [ my Tumblr](icecreamandsnakes.tumblr.com)


End file.
